


We'll Go Where the Sea Meets the Stars

by whiskyandwildflowers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bonfires, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Lifeguard Keith (Voltron), M/M, Metal Arm Kink, Modern Era, Night Swims, Oral Sex, Seriously there's a lot of thirst, Shiro is hot and Keith is thirsty, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyandwildflowers/pseuds/whiskyandwildflowers
Summary: Keith's a lifeguard and he loves his job—especially when a hot science nerd keeps hanging out in front of his lifeguard tower.Or, Keith loves the sea and Shiro loves the stars. They find a way to meet in the middle.





	We'll Go Where the Sea Meets the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for Sheith in Summer Week 2019!
> 
> For the prompts lifeguard and night swim! I couldn't decide, so I combined them both!
> 
> So many thanks to restlessandordinary for the beta—you're the best <3 <3

Keith loves his job. He loves watching the waves crash against the beach as he surveys the crowd from on top of his lifeguard tower. He loves spending his days outdoors, the sun warming his skin and the salty air filling his lungs. He loves the rush of adrenaline every time he races against the clock to help stranded swimmers.

But today, Keith especially loves his job. Today, the most gorgeous man Keith has ever laid eyes on has set up his blanket right in front of his tower, and Keith is making a concentrated effort not to swallow his tongue. 

To be fair, it’s the blindingly purple beach blanket that catches Keith’s eye first. It’s _aggressively_ purple, and Keith doesn’t even know where the fuck you would buy something like that. If the sun hadn’t been beating down on him, Keith would need to put on his sunglasses to shield his eyes from the blanket alone. Then he notices the owner of the radioactively purple blanket, and Keith’s brain starts to short circuit.

The guy is _built,_ with a high tech prosthetic arm that gleams in the hot summer sunshine. He has a shock of white hair poking through a neon purple snap back, equally purple sunglasses, and is wearing a white tank top that is practically transparent and is working overtime to stretch over the broad muscles of his shoulders and chest. And then there’s his miniature excuse for a swimsuit: tiny hot pink swim trunks straining over his thighs and ass. Keith can’t function—it’s too fucking much. Keith prides himself in being above most thirst traps, he really, _really_ does. He’s a professional who spends most of his days among half-naked revelers rolling their bodies around on the hot sand like rotisserie chickens. But this guy with his neon accessories and blinding smile are sending Keith into another thirst dimension. 

“Hey, mullet! Wha—whooooa…” Keith hears Lance, his sort of best friend slash long term annoyance and fellow lifeguard, calling to him from the bottom of the tower. “Who is _that_ ? Who is _she_?” Keith had been so busy eyeing up Mr. Bright and Broad that he hadn’t noticed the woman he’s with—long silvery hair and a pastel pink bikini offsetting her dark skin. He and Lance don’t agree on much, but he’s sure that Lance would agree that they’re both completely doomed. 

Lance scrambles onto the tower to stand next to Keith. 

“Who—” Lance sputters.

Keith sighs. “I know.”

“What—”

“I know.”

“ _Why_ —”

“I _know_ ,” Keith says. “I know. We’re so fucked.” 

* * *

Over the next few weeks, because Lance doesn’t have a shy bone in his body or any tact to speak of, Keith learns three things:

  1. Crazy Hot Guy is named Shiro
  2. His beautiful friend is named Allura
  3. Shiro has quite the collection of brightly-colored bathing suits that are borderline obscene.



Shiro and Allura set up their blanket in what Keith has dubbed _their_ spot in front of the lifeguard tower every day, and ever since, Keith has been treated to a vast array of tiny, tight, eye-meltingly bright swim shorts courtesy of Shiro. Black with hot pink flamingos. Nuclear neon green with purple planets splashed across them. Orange with little rainbows. It’s so much. It’s a lot for Keith to handle, and he finds himself trying to creatively hide unwanted boners more than he ever has in his entire life. Maybe the saltwater was truly starting to seep into his pores and was making him thirstier or something. 

On the second day they showed up, Lance had made his way over, and Keith isn’t quite sure what he said, but it ended with Shiro laughing—a sight that’s burned into Keith’s memory, his head thrown back and one hand clutching at his gorgeous chest—and Allura dumping a Mountain Dew over Lance’s head. 

Needless to say, Lance is in love, looking for any excuse to try and talk to Shiro and Allura at least once a shift. Keith hasn’t spoken to them yet, preferring to glance at Shiro from the safety and distance of his tower and behind his sunglasses. Indulging his fantasies from a distance is fine, but Keith has no plans to actually _do_ anything about it. Fantasies are safe, but people tended to be disappointing in practice, at least in Keith’s experience. 

Keith’s content, extremely content and totally fine, to just admire from afar, in a completely non-creepy, strictly professional lifeguard kind of way. He’s not noticing the way the mixture of sweat and sunscreen makes Shiro’s muscles shine in the sun like he’s some sort of bronzed statue that belongs in a museum. He’s not noticing the way Shiro’s throat works as he downs a bright blue sports drink. He’s absolutely, for sure, not noticing the curve of Shiro’s broad back and his ass as he lies on his stomach reading _Scientific American—_ because of course he’s hot _and_ smart. It’s fine. This is fine. Keith is _fine_. 

Maybe if Keith repeats this enough it actually _will_ be fine.

Every now and then, Keith swears he can feel Shiro’s eyes on him from behind his dark sunglasses, peeking over the top of his magazine, or slanted in his direction from the beach volleyball court, but that’s wishful thinking. It has to be. Keith _wants_ , and Keith can’t have, so his stupid fucking brain is creating these really dangerous ideas. 

While Keith would never wish for an eventful day on the job exactly, at least he has to stay on high alert, which keeps him from drifting too far into his Shiro-related daydreams. And on this sundrenched Friday afternoon, Keith can’t linger on the way Shiro is building what looks like a miniature space station out of sand, and how it makes his heart clench and swell a bit for reasons beyond Keith’s comprehension, because the current is strong, the waves are building, and Keith spots a kid on a boogie board getting pushed further and further out from the shore. 

Keith grabs his rescue buoy and sprints out to the water, ignoring the way the sand is scorching the soles of his feet. He works through the burn in his lungs and his arms as he hits the water and swims out, the water resisting his every movement and pushing back against him just as hard. Adrenaline courses through his veins and everything tastes like salt as he does everything he can to just _get there_ , to just get over to this kid and haul him back and make sure nothing awful happens on his watch.

He finally makes it out to the kid, who grabs onto the rescue buoy, and Keith tugs him and his board back to shore. They have an audience that Keith tries to ignore as they step onto the sand. People always get excited whenever there’s any kind of action from the lifeguards, and Keith has learned to tune it out. He’s just doing his job, and he’s not it in for the attention. The kid’s a little shaky-legged and wobbly and Keith steadies him with one arm, pushing his own sea-soaked hair out of his eyes with his free hand, as they walk over to Lance who’s standing by to administer first aid. 

“That was amazing,” a low voice behind Keith starts, and Keith prepares his standard _it was nothing I’m just doing my job_ speech as he begins to turn around.

“I—uh,” Keith stammers, the words dying in his throat as he finds himself practically face planting into a broad chest and a brilliant smile beaming down at him. Keith is standing toe-to-toe with Shiro, and now he kind of wishes the current had carried him as far away from this beach as possible.

“You were great out there! You got out to that kid so quickly,” Shiro continues, still smiling at him as if Keith has single-handedly saved the entire beach from a mutant shark attack. Keith can see a silvery-pink scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose, standing out starkly against his tan skin, a few tiny freckles dotting his cheeks. He wishes Shiro’s eyes weren’t hidden behind his sunglasses. “You’re Keith, right? Lance—I, uh, I asked Lance what your name was, I hope that’s okay…” Shiro trails off, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, ears pinking a little.

Keith blinks. What is _happening_? 

“Yeah, that’s me. I’ve seen you around with your friend, hope Lance hasn’t been bugging you guys too much,” Keith replies, trying to keep it casual instead of _I’ve seen you around, watched you every day, have been dying to help you with your sunscreen._

“Oh, god,” Shiro laughs, tipping his head back. “I don’t think Lance knows what he’s in for. But Allura’s a little sweeter on him than she’s letting on. She’s going to make him work for it though.”

“That’s a good strategy. Lance could stand to have to put in some actual work for a change,” Keith says through a grin that’s forming. 

“She’ll put him through his paces.” Shiro shifts his weight from foot to foot, like a kid who’s anxious to get back out and play. “Look, a few of us are having a bonfire further down the beach later on tonight—”

An arm slings across Keith’s shoulder, knocking him off-kilter for a second. “Oh, Shiro, my man. We’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it!” Fucking Lance, of fucking course he’d choose right now to pop up. 

“Cool, that’s—that’s great! I’ll see you both later then. Maybe around 9-ish? You won’t be able to miss us. BYOB and all that if you want.” Shiro runs a hand through the stupid adorable floof of hair poking through the front of his snapback, before turning to leave. 

Keith stares after him. “Later, then,” Keith answers, feeling a little shell shocked by the entire interaction.

“Tell Allura I say what’s up!” Lance says, with a cocky smile Keith’s sure he thinks is extremely cool. Keith rolls his eyes and shrugs Lance’s arm off, and Shiro laughs as he walks away.

“By the way,” Shiro calls over his shoulder. “Is that your strategy?”

Keith frowns. “Is _what_ my strategy?”

“Making someone work for it.” 

And Keith has _no_ idea how to respond to that.

* * *

At the end of his shift, Keith showers at the lifeguard clubhouse, washing away the salt and the sand, and hoping some of his nerves go down the drain with it. Fuck, in any other situation, Keith would have come up with a decent excuse to bail on the bonfire by now. Being social is never Keith’s thing—small talk makes him want to murder someone and die in equal measure, and he has no patience for ninety percent of the humans he has ever met. He rolls his shoulders under the hot spray and cracks his back, the warmth seeping into his muscles after the long day he’s had. He’d had to go back out into the surf two more times before the end of the day because of the strong current and waves, and he’s exhausted and feeling the strain. 

Lance is getting provisions while Keith gets ready, and as much as Keith wants to curl up and go to sleep for a thousand years, the thought of seeing Shiro again is buzzing and fizzing underneath his skin, keeping him on edge and alert.

 _This is a bad idea,_ Keith thinks as he towels off his hair and starts pulling on his clothes, hauling his pants on over a dry set of swim trunks out of habit. Meeting up with Shiro and his friends is one of the worst ideas he’s ever had. He was so happy just enjoying the view, fantasizing about Shiro telling him about the nerdy science stuff he reads about every day, getting one of Shiro’s radiant laughs directed towards one of his jokes. Keith’s already felt the force of Shiro’s dazzling smile on him, and Keith was like a flower tilting towards the sun, soaking up its warmth. He’s doomed. The prospect of Shiro being _real_ for Keith, a real person he can talk to and laugh with and touch is intoxicating and terrifying, and he’s trying so hard not to hope.

“My dude, my guy, are you done primping? Let’s get this show on the road. My true love awaits!” Lance hollers as he strides into the clubhouse, arms laden with beer and soda and marshmallows.

“Did you leave any marshmallows for anyone else at the store?” Keith asks as he finishes lacing his boots, eyeing the mountain of supplies Lance is holding. Lance gives an affronted snort and tries to shove Keith with his shoulder, dropping a couple of bags of marshmallows on the floor in the process.

“Sweets for my sweet,” Lance simpers in a spacey, lovestruck tone. 

“That’s nice Lance, but I’d rather have the beer,” Keith snorts.

“Very funny, dipshit. They’re for Allura. Just for that comment, you don’t get any,” Lance says as Keith grabs the fallen marshmallow bags off the floor. 

Keith shrugs. “Maybe she’d rather have the beer too.”

“Just—ugh, let’s just go. She can have whatever she wants.”

“After you, loverboy,” Keith says, holding open the clubhouse door for Lance, who shoots him the dirtiest look he can muster with an armload of marshmallows.

“Shut up, as if you’re not dying over Shiro. I know you. You think you’re _so_ stealth, but you are so into him, it’s ridiculous. And you’re wearing a flannel and combat boots to a beach party? Really? That’s so you, god.” Keith freezes as Lance continues to ramble, suddenly terrified that if Lance has noticed his stupid, _stupid_ pining, Shiro might somehow have clocked it. 

Lance softens a little. “Look, I just know you, okay? It’s fine. And Shiro’s really nice, so you don’t have to feel nervous or anything—”

“I’m not nervous!” Keith cuts Lance off. “There’s nothing going on. Let’s just go and get this over with so I can go home.”

“Oooookay then,” Lance says, skepticism dripping from every syllable. 

Keith is silent as they trek down the beach in the darkness, the faint glow of a bonfire in the distance lighting their way. Lance chatters incessantly, which is completely normal for him, but Keith can’t absorb anything he’s saying. He wants to run. Keith wants to run back to the clubhouse and hop on his bike and not stop until he’s as far away from the beach as he can get. The night is humid, the air thick and sticky, and it’s probably way too hot out for a bonfire. Keith ties his sweaty hair into a sloppy little ponytail at the nape of his neck, trying to wish a breeze into existence to cool his heated skin.

Music is pumping out of a Jeep parked near the fire with a group of people clustered around it, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. 

“Hi! Keith, hey, you guys made it!” Shiro is jogging towards them, waving a little, and it’s clear that Keith is being faced with a man who has the body of an Adonis and the soul of a golden retriever, because he’s so happy and sweet and _fuck_. “Let me introduce you to everyone else and you can put your stuff down.”

Shiro leads them over to the circle around the bonfire where Allura is standing with two other guys and a girl, introduced as Hunk, Matt, and Pidge. 

Hunk, who is roasting a stick with probably 8 marshmallows stuck on it, smiles at Keith “Oh, you’re Keith! We—”

“—are so glad you’re here!” Allura steps in smoothly, giving Hunk a bit of a look that Keith can’t place. “And hello, Lance.”

Lance looks ready to step in with a terrible marshmallow-related pickup line of some kind when Allura grabs his arm, taking him off-guard. “Come on, then. Let’s go put this stuff over in the Jeep,” she says, leading Lance off as he trails her with a starry-eyed expression.

Matt, Pidge, and Hunk continue to chatter away which leaves Keith with Shiro.

“Kind of hot out for a bonfire, isn’t it?” Keith asks, pulling his flannel shirt away from where it’s sticking to his sweaty chest. 

Shiro clears his throat. “Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time? S’mores always seem like a good idea. But it didn’t cool off at all tonight…” Shiro trails off. Sweat glistens at his temples even though he’s only wearing basketball shorts and a Garrison U t-shirt. “Do you, uh, can I get you a drink maybe?”

“As long as we don’t have to go too close to that fire right now, lead the way,” Keith says and Shiro huffs out a laugh. Hunk has a sort of s’mores assembly line going, and he hands Shiro a couple of them when they pass by on their way to the cooler. Sweets have never really been Keith’s thing, but he had a long day and skipped dinner, so he bites into it right away. The chocolate is creamy and sweet, the marshmallow gooey and smoky from the fire. 

“Soda or beer?” Shiro asks as he ducks down to rummage around in the cooler. Keith asks for a soda, not wanting any alcohol to go to his head, as he tries to focus on his snack instead of the absolute snack that is Shiro, bent over in front of him, his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders and slipping up over his back. Shiro hands him his drink, and it’s the condensation making the can slip a little in his grasp, and definitely _not_ the way their hands brush a little in the transaction. 

Keith licks a stray bit of marshmallow from his thumb, and Shiro absently shakes his head a bit like a waterlogged dog might, pressing his own can of soda against his neck. A droplet of either water or sweat runs down the tendons in Shiro’s neck, and Keith wants nothing more than to lick that off too. This is a nightmare. 

“So, you like the beach?” Keith blurts out, because he fucking sucks at small talk and immediately regrets every decision he’s ever made that’s lead him to this point. “I mean, I’ve seen that you come to the beach a lot. Every day. You and Allura.”

If Shiro thinks Keith’s a total weirdo, he doesn’t show it, breaking into a huge grin that’s luminous even in the low light. “Yeah, we’re in the aerospace engineering program at Garrison U, and we have the next two months free before classes start again. It’s an intense schedule, so we’re trying to make the most of our time off.”

“So that’s where the science magazines come in?” Fuck, Keith wishes he could shut up.

Shiro’s smiles even wider at that, then huffs out a laugh and scrubs at the back of his neck a little. “I’m not great at taking time off. I guess I’m a bit of a nerd, don’t tell anyone,” he says, leaning into Keith’s space a little like he’s sharing a secret. It’s so hot, everything is too fucking hot, and Keith is going to crawl out of his skin. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, space cadet,” Keith replies, putting on an air of confidence he certainly doesn’t feel. He wants to get back in the water. The water is his happy place. It’s cool and soothing and he’s way too fucking warm to try and form any kind of coherent thought. 

He and Shiro are standing a little ways away from everyone else, in their own little bubble of conversation, and having Shiro’s full attention turned on him is a lot for Keith to handle. 

“I love it out here,” Shiro says in a quiet, reverential tone. “We’re far enough out from the city that you can see the stars so clearly.” His wistful voice makes Keith’s heart twist in a way he doesn’t really want to think about too closely. Shiro is hot, and Shiro is thoughtful, and Shiro is so much _more_ than Keith could have imagined when he was thirsting after those tiny swimsuits on the beach. 

And looking over at Shiro, who is staring at the sky with an almost painful longing stirs up something fierce in Keith and rattles this bones. 

“If you want, I—there’s something I could show you. There would be a little bit of swimming involved. I mean, I know you don’t know me well, and you might not want to wander off or anything but—fuck, I’m sorry. This was super fucking weird, forget I said anything,” Keith rambles, regretting having any ideas, and his entire existence in general. 

Shiro lights up like a beacon in a storm. “Well, if we’re going for a nightswim, I’m glad to have the best lifeguard on the beach with me. You’ll be there to save me, right?” He asks, nudging Keith playfully.

“As many times as it takes,” Keith smirks, butterflies threatening to burst out from his chest. “Don’t worry, you won’t be getting into any trouble.”

“You sure about that?” Shiro answers. And no, Keith’s not sure at all. Maybe he’s the one in trouble here.

* * *

Keith only feels a little bit bad for bailing on Lance since it actually seems like he and Allura were hitting it off. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, leading Shiro off on his own. Keith uses his cellphone as a flashlight to guide their way down the beach towards a slightly rockier area. It’s not a dangerous trek, and he would know this route in his sleep, but Shiro stumbles a little as the sand meets the stones, falling forward and gripping Keith’s bicep to keep steady. Fuck, his hand is big. And warm. And Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Sorry,” Shiro mumbles, his breath hot against Keith’s ear as he releases Keith’s arm from his considerable grip. 

“It’s okay, you can—you can hold on if you need too,” Keith replies, thankful as fuck that it’s dark enough that Shiro can’t see him blush. And after that, he can’t tell if Shiro is just extremely clumsy or what, but Keith starts to go crazy from Shiro’s hands casually finding their way to his arm and waist. 

By the time they reach their destination, Keith is a little hot under the collar, to put it mildly. He’s taken Shiro to one of his favourite hidden gems near the beach, a small rocky pool, tucked away by some trees and bushes, with a view of the ocean and the sky. Usually Keith comes out here to think and be alone, especially at night when most of the beachgoers have gone home for the night. Being by the water is something Keith loves, and needs, and whenever his thoughts get too loud, he finds himself making his way out to this spot to sit in the water and find the quiet he needs. 

“Wow,” Shiro breathes behind him, his voice low and awestruck. 

Keith starts unbuttoning his shirt, the night air a welcome relief as he shrugs off the sweaty material. “You don’t have to come in the water if you don’t want to, but it’s so hot out and the water stays nice and cool here.” He shucks off his pants and is left in his red swim trunks he’s wearing underneath. 

“You’re, uh, you came very prepared,” Shiro says hoarsely and Keith laughs as he slides into the water.

“Trust me, I’m no boy scout or anything. I just like to swim.” He tries to give Shiro a bit of privacy, but can’t stop himself from looking over as he takes off his t-shirt and shorts. Nothing about Shiro could ever come close to being disappointing, but Keith can’t help wishing he was wearing one of his ridiculous pairs of swim trunks underneath. But the tight black boxer briefs clinging to Shiro’s thighs are still way too much for Keith to deal with. 

Keith clears his throat a bit, trying to break the silence building between them. “You said you liked the stars, so I thought—you can see them so well out here so I thought you might like to see…” Keith trails off as Shiro gets into the water next to him. 

“It’s gorgeous here,” Shiro says, looking up at the sky and then back at Keith. He can see the reflection of the stars in Shiro’s eyes, and it’s too beautiful. It’s an image Keith wants to keep and save, tucked away into his heart as long as he can, though he’s sure he could never forget it even if he wanted to. 

Keith has no idea why he’s sharing this secret part of himself with someone he barely knows, but swimming here with Shiro, the cool water soothing his nerves, seems so right that he doesn’t want to question it. Keith just wants to feel it.

“I’ve always wanted to see them up close, the stars and space and stuff, and that might be kind of a pipe dream because of this,” Shiro says, gesturing with his prosthetic. “But who knows. Besides, there are some things here on Earth I still want to do.” He smiles at Keith, and Keith _really_ wants to kiss him. A lot. It’s sort of a perfect moment—under the stars with the guy you like, barely clothed, in a secluded location and baring your soul bit by bit. But the moment is _too_ perfect, and if this is all Keith can get, he doesn’t want to wreck it. So he nods and smiles back, and the perfect moment passes. 

“This kind of place is my favourite. You can’t see anything besides where the sea meets the stars, and everything feels kind of...infinite, or something,” Keith murmurs, hoping he doesn’t sound too stupid or sappy.

Shiro hums in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

They stay in the water and lose track of time, talking about their lives. Shiro tells Keith how he lost his arm from a childhood illness, and Keith talks about losing his dad. And despite the discussions of loss, their time together is comfortable and easy. Talking with Shiro feels natural—it feels _good_. Maybe it’s the magic of his secret swimming spot, or just the effect a warm summer night can have on two people. 

Or maybe it’s just Shiro, which is a terrifying thought.

And as much as Keith doesn’t want this night to ever end, wants to stay in this spot and spill his guts to Shiro, he has to work in the morning and fatigue is starting to seep into his limbs.

“Hey, maybe we should head back? I have some spare towels at the lifeguard clubhouse. We can dry off and stuff,” he says, and they exit the water, gathering up their clothes that had been scattered across the rocks. 

On their way to the clubhouse, Keith is painfully aware of the heat of Shiro at his back, and Keith isn’t sure if the goosebumps sprinkled across his skin are from the night air or from his proximity to Shiro. The exhaustion he was starting to feel in the water dissipates 

They’re both silent as they enter the clubhouse, a stillness in the air with the late hour, and Keith isn’t sure if there’s a tension between them or if he’s just being super fucking weird. 

“So, I’ve wanted to ask. Where do you even buy those wild swim shorts of yours?” Keith asks as he grabs some spare towels from a shelf and hands one to Shiro. 

Shiro throws his head back with a little groan as he starts to rub the towel over his arms, and Keith wrenches his eyes away to the way Shiro’s rubbing at his biceps. 

“ _God_. So, I have a bit of a confession to make. I do really love fun clothes, but I—fuck, I was trying to get you to notice me? Allura kind of said it might work?” Shiro grins sheepishly. “But it didn’t, and so I feel pretty dumb now—”

“You think I didn’t _notice_ you?” Keith butts in, the whole situation feeling kind of surreal.

Shiro takes a deep breath and drapes the towel over his shoulders. “Well, I mean, I was there every day, and you never came over or anything, even after Lance started talking to Allura. And I thought if I stood out a bit—this is pathetic, right? Trying to get the hot lifeguard to come over and talk to me.”

“Wait, you were into me?”

Shiro scrubs a hand over his face. “Keith, you’re like the hottest person on that beach. Was I not obvious? I thought I was really kind of obvious. The way you run out into that water every day to rescue people. You’re so strong, and you’re so good at it and—”

And _this_ is Keith’s perfect moment. He might have felt hesitant while they were swimming, but as he surges forward to press their lips together, Keith knows that this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Shiro lets out a small noise of surprise, and then grips Keith’s waist to pull him closer, his hands huge and warm against Keith’s damp skin, the press of Shiro’s prosthetic against him making Keith tingle. Their lips are cold from their swim earlier, but Keith is on fire, completely lit up from the inside out as he presses himself against Shiro and focuses on the hot slide of Shiro’s tongue in his mouth.

They break apart, foreheads pressed together with Shiro’s thumbs moving in circles along Keith’s hip bones. 

“Shiro, I fucking _noticed_ you, okay. I have noticed you in every way it’s possible to notice someone. I saw you. Every single day in those damn tiny bathing suits, reading those science magazines. You’ve been driving me crazy for _weeks_ ,” Keith breathes against Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s thumbs move along the waistband of Keith’s bathing suit, sending all of the blood in Keith’s body rushing into his dick. He has never been this horny in his entire fucking life, and he feels paralyzed and rooted to the spot. He actually _likes_ Shiro, and that’s almost the worst part. Sure, he wants to fuck Shiro—wants to do some really, really filthy things with Shiro—but he also wants to go to breakfast, and spend long nights together under the stars at his favourite swimming spot, and hear all about Shiro’s research and _fuck_ . And Keith doesn’t even have a chance to spiral out of control right now, because Shiro’s dropping to his knees and looking up at Keith through his eyelashes and it’s _everything_. 

Shiro’s hands are gripping Keith’s thighs now, still rubbing little circles, and it would be absolutely impossible for Shiro not to notice the way Keith is getting hard in his swim trunks. But Keith is starting to suspect that this might be the goal. 

“I love watching you work,” Shiro says, voice husky and low.

“It’s my job—”

Shiro rests his head against Keith’s thigh. “It’s more than that. And, fuck, I just—can I?”

Keith cards his hand through Shiro’s damp hair, and he knows what he’s asking. And what else is Keith supposed to do, with Shiro down on his knees in front of him, a sight he’s been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yes. Yeah,” Keith breathes, tightening his grip in Shiro’s hair. 

Shiro runs his hands over Keith’s thighs again, slipping his fingers underneath the opening of Keith’s swim shorts, tracing the curve where Keith’s ass meets this thighs and making him shiver. 

“I’ll be so good to you, I promise,” he says, in the most earnest way someone possibly can with their face that close to someone’s dick. Shiro slides down Keith’s trunks, the material sticking to his damp skin. Shiro mouths against his hip, hot like a brand against Keith’s skin which is still cool from their swim, moving in a molten trail across Keith’s hips and belly.

Keith runs his thumb along Shiro’s cheekbone, and then against the lush curve of his lower lip, slipping it into Shiro’s mouth a little and then back out again.

“You’re sweet, aren’t you? You’re so fucking sweet,” Keith breathes, and he doesn’t know where this is coming from at _all_ , but it spurs Shiro into action. 

Shiro sucks Keith like he’s a starving man. It’s obscene, it’s actually obscene, the way he looks like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than on his knees in front of Keith, and Keith is torn between closing his eyes so he doesn’t come immediately from the image alone, and not wanting to miss a single second of Shiro licking and sucking at his cock. 

“Fuck, Shiro. God, fuck—you’re amazing,” Keith is babbling endearments and obscenties, and when he accidentally lets a _baby_ slip out, Shiro actually fucking whines and presses the heel of his hand against the front of his own shorts, grinding against it, so turned on from sucking Keith’s dick that he can’t help himself. 

Keith is backed up against a shelf, one hand gripping one of the rescue buoys, the other hand threaded in Shiro’s hair, nails scratching at the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

The sounds Shiro’s making, his mouth wrapped around Keith, are so much to handle. Keith didn’t know it was possible for someone to seemingly enjoy sucking dick this much. Although he’s sure he can give Shiro a run for his money when he’s given the chance to reciprocate. 

Keith can’t help his hips bucking forward a little, even though he knows it isn’t polite. 

Shiro pulls back. “You can go for it, if you want. You can—you can fuck my mouth,” he says hoarsely before licking up the side of Keith’s cock. And Keith’s dick fucking _throbs_ at the wraspy, fucked-out sound of Shiro’s voice. He cups Shiro’s cheek and cants his hips forward into the sinful wet heat of Shiro’s mouth, trying not to thrust too hard, but encouraged by the tiny moans and sweet, sweet sounds coming out of Shiro as he swallows him down, taking everything Keith has to give.

Shiro, still grinding desperately against the palm of his hand, slips his other hand, the fucking metal one—and Keith doesn’t have time to examine how much he likes _that_ —up to the curve of Keith’s ass, hesitantly trailing a finger in between and skating over Keith’s hole, sending jolts of lust rocketing up Keith’s spine. He pulls Keith forward, so the head of his dick is hitting the back of Shiro’s throat, and Keith is fucking _gone_. He cries out, pulsing and spilling down Shiro’s throat as Shiro holds him and works him through it. 

Shiro pulls off, holding Keith steady by his hip. Meanwhile, Keith can’t form any thoughts since all of his brain function was just sucked out through his dick. He hauls Shiro to his feet, cupping his face in his hands and pulling him in for a kiss. It’s filthy, Keith can taste himself on Shiro’s tongue and, fuck, his dick throbs just thinking about what they’ve done. 

“I can—” Keith starts as he pulls away, ready and eager to reciprocate. 

“Uh,” Shiro starts, resting his head against the curve of Keith’s shoulder and neck. “I’m actually...good…” And oh, _oh_. Fuck.

“That’s ok, you can save some for me next time,” Keith says, running his hand up Shiro’s back. 

Shiro kisses Keith’s shoulder, and Keith breathes in the scent of salt water in his hair. “Good. I was really hoping for a next time. And more times after that.”

“I mean, you already know about my secret favorite swimming spot so I can’t let you go yet,” Keith murmurs.

“You mean my new favorite stargazing spot,” Shiro laughs.

And Keith has no problem sharing. It’s not every day that you find the perfect spot where the sea meets the stars, or the perfect person to share it with.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://whiskyandwildflowers.tumblr.com) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/whiskyandwflwrs)


End file.
